Dear reader,
In August and September, I was hard on myself when no one was looking.
After visiting my mom in New Hampshire earlier in the summer, I made an impulsive decision to rent a studio at the beach outside of New York City through October, even though I live in California. My mom was in rough shape. I wasn’t ready to leave her, but I couldn’t stay with her either. And so I went to New York to think about things and to talk to my friends who live there.
My friends in New York have known me for a long time. My friends in New York are also older than I am. I thought it would be good to be close to them. I thought maybe they’d hug me in a way that would feel familiar, or maybe we would eat at that one place together just like old times, as if nothing had changed. I thought they might know something about taking care of parents who can’t take care of themselves anymore.
Shortly after I arrived in New York, I crossed paths with somebody I know named Sasha while riding a bicycle that I had left behind with a friend years ago. Sasha told me about her new house and that she had a seasonal garage sublet she wanted to rent out. Even though there was little sense to make of it, I felt called towards it, and the next day I agreed to live in the garage — sometimes. I extended my trip out east indefinitely and told my landmates at the ranch that I didn’t know when I’d be home. I reassured my mom that I was close.
I lived for a few weeks in the apartment on the bayside of the Rockaway peninsula. During the daytime I took walks and did some work of my own, but mostly I searched for answers to questions that my mother had left blank regarding the rest of her life. I interviewed care managers. I learned about the difference between being old in Maine, New Hampshire, and Massachusetts.
At the end of June, T. came to visit me and we practiced living together in one room. Often we woke up early and walked to the bodega for cheap coffee and a bagel before checking the surf. Sometimes we changed out of our swimsuits and took the train or the ferry to the city to look at art and go dancing. At night we made love, or we fought. The planes circling the nearby airport were so loud that they defeaned the moans or cries that passed between us, no matter how close together we were.